An example of a mall that feels like a
square is Manhattan's Chelsea Market,
which I recently visited for the first time.
It is a pleasing, piquant concatenation of
shops devoted mainly to food, interspersed
with spaces selling clothes, jewelry and
books, some new, some vintage. A
multitude of shops are gathered under
the capacious roof of the former National
Biscuit Company factory, of mellow brick,
where the Oreo cookie was invented
and produced, auguring well for the
inventiveness and success evinced by
these various retail businesses, many of
them themselves the actual makers of the
food or other products they sell.
There are some chains—Sarabeth's,
Anthropologie and the magisterial
Posman Books (their flagship is on the
Concourse at Grand Central), which
despite their far-flung success, deal with
a thoughtful selection of goods bearing a
handmade, sometimes, unique character.
At Chelsea Market, one finds individuality,
heterogeneity and quality in the goods for
sale. A square celebrates, often, though
not exclusively, small businesses and
artisanal goods; a mall tends to promulgate
immense, endlessly replicated businesses
and mass-produced items.
